


To Leave Your Love Behind

by SouthSideStory



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, Explicit Sex, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Sakura/OC - Freeform, Very Bad Decision Making, demisexual Sakura, post 699 (sort of)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28193976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthSideStory/pseuds/SouthSideStory
Summary: Sakura knows that her boyfriend isn’t the one, becausethe onescrewed her and abandoned her the next morning. Even after five long years—not that she’s counting—it still stings. With her luck, it’ll sting forever. Her feelings for Uchiha Sasuke have an unfortunate tendency to stick.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 227
Kudos: 325





	1. Those Heavy Days in June

**Author's Note:**

> This story diverges from canon in Chapter 699. Everything that happened up until Sasuke returned to Konoha after his battle with Naruto at The Valley of the End is the same, but Sasuke left for his redemption journey under… different circumstances.
> 
> If you liked In Times of Peace, I suspect that this fic will be up your alley. But please note that, as with ITOP, there will be some Sakura/OC. It should be fairly obvious from the beginning that her relationship with Hideo is destined to be short-lived (even if this wasn’t a SasuSaku story lol). One of the things I’ll be exploring is that Sakura is demisexual, and how trying to sleep with people besides Sasuke was a doomed endeavor because she’s still in love with him. If Sakura/OC is something you have a low tolerance for, then this is probably not the fic for you. But if it’s something you’re cool with, or can at least look past, welcome aboard the trash train! You can expect lots of angst, yearning, poor decision making, and emotional messiness. ;)
> 
> Shout out to potatoe-ess-dee on tumblr who sent me the prompt that encouraged me to write this fic: “Sasuke pining after Sakura when returning from his journey of atonement but she seems to be moving on from him?”
> 
> Regarding the underage sex content warning—Sasuke and Sakura are 21 and 22 respectively at the beginning of this story, but there will be one NSFW flashback chapter that takes place when they’re 17.

.

.

Summer in Konoha carries a weighted sort of heat. Heavy, almost oppressive, and thick with humidity. Days like this—overcast and painfully muggy—remind Sakura of a damp blanket draped over her head. Hard to breathe through and unpleasantly moist. But it’s a familiar blanket, at least. Like everything else about this village, she knows it inside and out, understands it deeply and completely. She can look forward to dusk, when the air will grow thinner and the warmth will recede.

It won’t be long now, just another half-hour until the sun sets on the Leaf. This is a rare, slow day for Sakura, so she sits on the roof of the weapons shop and waits. Alone, but not lonely; a peaceful sort of seclusion, safely out of eyeshot and earshot of most of the villagers. She sips from her cup of iced gyokuro that she bought from the new tea shop. Overpriced, but mellow and refreshing. A gentle breeze drifts her way, and she leans into it, savoring the way the air cools her sweaty skin.

Tomorrow won’t be so simple. She’ll start off her day with an eight-hour shift at the hospital (4 a.m. to noon, because Tsunade is still mad at her over her last mission) then tea with her mother, lunch with Ino, and dinner with Hideo. Their fifth date, and only their second as an official couple.

He’s a good guy, Hideo. Kind, respectful, polite. A bit shy—and a bit boring, if she’s honest—but he’s much better than Kenji or Taro. Maybe he’s not the one, but he’s good enough for now.

Not _maybe_. She knows he’s not the one, because _the one_ screwed her and abandoned her the next morning. Even after five long years—not that she’s counting—it still stings. With her luck, it’ll sting forever. Her feelings for Uchiha Sasuke have an unfortunate tendency to stick.

Sakura glances down at the street below, absentmindedly taking note of the people walking by. A mother of four leads her gaggle of children in a straight line, all of them carrying bulging, brown paper bags, likely full of groceries. Behind them, an old man limps along. A red-haired boy and girl run past him, fighting over a stick of cotton candy. Then—

Her cup almost slips between her numb fingers, because that man—no. It can’t be. Tall, black-haired, lithe. Sakura wishes she had a doujutsu so she could get a clearer look.

She doesn’t really need one, though. He’s too far away and walking in the wrong direction for her to see his face, but she knows it’s him. The way he moves is unmistakable. The restrained strength, the control, the slightest favoring of his right side, thanks to the arm he’s missing beneath that travel cloak.

Five years, three months, and six days. That’s how long it took Sasuke to come home.

Too long.

Too little, too late.

.

.

Sasuke still isn’t used to this Konoha. He spent five months here, recovering from his battle with Naruto—and the other injuries he carried; the invisible ones, too many to count. But five months wasn’t long enough for him to see past the sheen of fresh paint, the woody scent of cut lumber. New growth in this old place, rebuilding what was lost in his absence.

It looks less new now. The paint not so bright, the smells of construction replaced with something more mundane. An established, bustling village.

But it still doesn’t feel like _his_ village. It probably never will. Although, considering what Konoha did to him, what it took from him, maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.

Sasuke adjusts his hold on his travel sack, keeping it close. There’s not much in it, but it’s all he has in the world. The clothes on his back, the supplies in this bag, the lessons he learned on the road. These are the things he’s carrying back home with him, and all of them are precious.

He heads straight to the Hokage tower. It’s still difficult to imagine his lazy sensei as the Rokudaime, but stranger things have happened.

A shinobi he doesn’t know stops him on the top floor. The man looks to be in his mid-twenties, dark-haired, with one of the most ordinary faces Sasuke has ever seen. He’ll likely forget it the moment they part ways.

“Who are you?” the shinobi asks, his voice brisk and professional but not accusatory. “And what business do you have with the Hokage?”

“I’m his old student,” Sasuke says.

That should answer both questions.

The shinobi’s brown eyes grow rounder. “Oh. Then you must be Sasuke.”

The way he says that sounds overly familiar, like they know one another when they certainly don’t, and Sasuke can’t help but bristle.

“Sorry,” the man says quickly. “It’s just, you’re my girlfriend’s teammate. So…”

Sasuke doesn’t breathe, doesn’t speak, doesn’t make an expression. He barely manages to keep himself level, though, because he can’t stop hearing the word _girlfriend_. It circles through his head again and again.

Girlfriend. Sakura, the most remarkable woman he knows, is this utterly unremarkable man’s _girlfriend_.

“What’s your name?” Sasuke asks. He’s proud of himself for sounding so calm.

“Hideo.”

Hideo holds out his hand.

Sasuke doesn’t take it.

“I need to see Kakashi,” he says.

He strides around Hideo and opens the door to the Hokage’s office. Kakashi sits with his feet on the massive desk, _Icha Icha_ in hand. The same battered copy he used to carry back in Team 7’s genin days.

Team 7. Sakura. Sakura’s boyfriend, whose plain face he’d like to punch—

No. He has no business being possessive. Not after what he did to her.

Kakashi doesn’t look away from his book. “Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow. I just got to the best part.”

“I assume you mean the pornography,” Sasuke says dryly.

Kakashi doesn’t jump or drop his book. He’s too well trained for that—but he _is_ surprised. Sasuke can see it in the way he cants his head, the slight widening of his dark eyes.

“You’re back,” he says warmly.

Well, warmly for Kakashi. From anyone else, it would come off mildly bored.

“I am,” Sasuke agrees. “And I’d like to be reinstated as an active Konoha shinobi as soon as possible.”

Kakashi sighs. “Right to business. You don’t even have a hello to spare for your poor, old teacher.”

“Old? You’re what, thirty-five?”

“Thirty-six. Which is about a hundred in shinobi years,” Kakashi says.

He stands up, sets down his book, and walks around the desk. For a moment, Sasuke is afraid that Kakashi might do something embarrassing, like try to hug him. Thankfully, he stops when they’re a few feet apart, hands in his pockets.

“You don’t look like much of a Hokage,” Sasuke says. “No hat, no robe.”

Kakashi laughs. “Oh, don’t worry. I put on my costume and perform my song and dance when it’s required. And when it’s not…” He gestures at his clothes, which are nearly identical to the standard issue gear he wore back when he was Team 7’s teacher.

He wonders what Sakura wears these days.

“About reinstating me. When can I go on missions?”

“In a month,” Kakashi says. “You never finished your probation.”

_“My probation?”_

“Six months’ probation, remember? You have one left.”

Sasuke huffs. “You’ve got to be kidding. It’s been five years.”

“Five years as a free agent,” Kakashi reminds him, his voice annoyingly cheerful. “Not as a Konoha ninja.”

He must see how much Sasuke likes this news, because he waves his hand in a wishy-washy way and says, “I’ll cut a week off of it because you’re my second-favorite student.”

“Naruto better be number three.” Dead last, like old times. “Or I’ll worry for your sanity.”

By the way Kakashi’s eyes crinkle, Sasuke can tell he’s smiling beneath the mask. “Of course. Wouldn’t Sakura be _your_ favorite?”

Sasuke clenches his jaw to keep from snapping. “Do I need to sign any paperwork? Or can I go?”

Kakashi reaches out and clasps his shoulder. Sasuke stiffens, his whole body rigid. It’s been a very long time since someone touched him meaningfully.

Five years, three months, and six days, to be exact.

Kakashi squeezes his shoulder and says, “Get out of here. And visit your damn teammates. I don’t want them to find out you’re home through the grapevine.”

“Is Naruto still living in the same dive?” Sasuke asks.

“Yes.” Kakashi lets go of him and says, more carefully, “Sakura hasn’t moved either.”

Sasuke swallows, then counts three things in plain sight to calm himself. The dog-eared copy of _Icha Icha_ on Kakashi’s desk. A wilting potted plant in the corner, its leaves a sickly yellow around the edges. And the wide window that showcases Konoha at sunset. One, two, three, to remind himself of where he is. It’s a trick to stay in the present moment that he picked up in Suna, from an old veteran of one of the shinobi wars. An amputee like him, who suffered nightmares and moments like this, when the world freezes around you.

Sakura hasn’t moved. She still makes her morning tea in the same cramped kitchen, still sleeps in the same soft bed. The bed where they—

“I doubt Sakura wants to see me,” he says shortly.

Kakashi frowns, an expression so sympathetic that Sasuke nearly recoils from it.

“Naruto, then. He’ll be happy that you’re back.”

Sasuke nods.

“And what about you?” Kakashi asks.

“What do you mean?”

Kakashi shrugs. “Are _you_ happy to be back?”

An hour ago, the answer might have been yes. But now, knowing that the guard dog in the hall is Sakura’s boyfriend, Sasuke can’t summon much in the way of happiness.

“Not yet,” he says.

That’s the best he can manage for now.

.

.

“He’s back?” Naruto asks. “Really?”

Sakura envies the excitement she hears in his voice, how thrilled he is for Sasuke to be home. She should be excited too. She shouldn’t have spent the last five years dreading this moment. There are many things that should be different, but dwelling on them won’t help.

“Yes, really.”

Just from the obstinate expression settling on Naruto’s face, she can tell he’s about to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, and sure enough he says, “Whatever the two of you fought about, don’t you think it’s time to let it go?”

Sakura takes a steadying breath. Because if she doesn’t calm down, she might clock Naruto so hard he sees stars. “It’s not the kind of thing that can just be forgiven and forgotten.”

Naruto raises his shoulders, hands held out. “Sakura, come on. Sasuke being an idiot lost me an arm, and I didn’t hold it against him. Seeing as how you still have both arms, I’m guessing that he didn’t hurt you as badly as he hurt me. So can’t you just give him a pass?”

Yes, her arms are intact. Her heart, on the other hand, hasn't fared so well.

“This isn’t any of your business, Naruto.” She groans, head tilted back, eyes closed. “Ugh, please let’s not go through this again. I just wanted you to know he’s here, not have a fight about—”

Four sharp knocks sound on Naruto’s door.

“Shit,” Sakura hisses—quietly, because Sasuke’s hearing is excellent.

And it is almost certainly Sasuke on Naruto’s front stoop. She knows his knock, just like she knows the particular way he walks and the cadence of his voice.

Naruto makes for the door, but Sakura smacks his wrist.

“Ouch!”

“Give me a minute to sneak out your fire escape,” Sakura whispers. “Then you can let him in.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not a bit.”

Naruto’s jaw tightens. Then he turns and strides over to the door.

“You stubborn, pigheaded jackass!” Sakura shouts, stomping her foot.

Right as Naruto opens the door.

Sasuke just looks at her, eyebrows raised. Somehow judging her both silently and at deafening volume.

“I was talking to Naruto,” she mumbles. “Not you.”

He nods slowly, then asks, “Is this a bad time?”

Naruto pulls Sasuke into what looks like a bone-crunching hug and says, “Shut up.”

Sasuke doesn’t precisely hug back, but he tolerates Naruto’s embrace with more grace than Sakura expects.

When Naruto finally lets go of him, he says, “You’re back! Took you long enough. Could have redeemed three criminals in the time you were gone.”

Sasuke makes a low, short noise that might pass for a laugh. “Not three with the mistakes I’ve been trying to make up for.”

He glances at her then, and Sakura’s stomach clenches.

Does he mean _she_ is on his list of mistakes? Or just what he did to her? Maybe he regrets using her and throwing her away. Taking her virginity—and giving up his own—then creeping away like a thief in the night.

And the letter. That awful letter that she’s read so many times she has it memorized. It starts with _I’m sorry_ and ends with _Thank you_ and Sakura hates it as much as she’s ever hated anything.

It doesn’t matter if he regrets it. She can’t forgive him.

In truth, she doesn’t want to either.

It would be easier, though, if he didn't look so damn handsome. Even in his dusty, travel worn clothes, with too-long hair covering his left eye, he's beautiful. Taller than the last time she saw him, and just as fit but slightly broader. A man now, not a boy. The elegant lines of his face have sharpened just enough to look even more masculine. Still beautiful, he’ll always be beautiful, but hardened. And yet somehow softened, too. He looks less haunted than before, as if he found the peace he was searching for after all.

She hopes so. No matter how angry she is, how hurt, Sakura can only be happy for him if he's managed to heal.

“Are you planning to stay this time?” she asks.

She doesn’t mean to accuse him, but her voice comes out all wrong, snotty instead of curious.

“More or less,” Sasuke says.

As if that’s an answer. Infuriating man.

Sasuke looks her up and down, and Sakura can feel his gaze sliding over every inch of her. It makes her suddenly aware of how unattractive she must be at the moment, dressed in her most basic civilian clothes, with her long hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Why couldn’t he have reappeared when she was getting ready for a date?

“I should go,” Sakura says. “I have an early shift at the hospital tomorrow.”

Sasuke is still standing close enough to the door that her shoulder brushes his as she walks past him. Just that sends her heart racing, the barest contact, no more than the kind she might share with a stranger in the street. Sakura doesn’t apologize, only hurries outside and closes the door behind her.

The sun set while she was arguing with Naruto, and now darkness has fallen on Konoha. The suffocating heat of the day has subsided, leaving the air cooler, lighter. Sakura inhales deeply, what feels like her first breath since Sasuke knocked.

She walks home by the light of the full moon. It reminds her of another night, when she was still a child—although, at thirteen, she was convinced she was grown. She suffered the first of Sasuke’s goodbyes that night, with only the sky to bear witness.

 _Thank you_ , he said then, before he knocked her out. And again years later, in the letter she keeps in a lockbox at the back of her closet.

_Thank you._

She hopes he never says those words to her again.

.

.


	2. What Stays and What Fades Away

.

.

_She let her hair grow out._

Strangely, that's Sasuke's first thought when the door closes behind Sakura. Her hair is even longer than when they were genin, hanging well past her waist, silken and pink. Even pulled back in a ponytail it's pretty. The rest of her is pretty too. Beautiful, really. She always has been.

Not that it does him any good to think about that.

Sasuke turns to Naruto and says flatly, "I don't have anywhere to stay, and no money to find a place until Kakashi lets me take missions. Which won't be for another three weeks."

Naruto makes a dismissive gesture. "Please. You know you can crash on my couch however long you need to." Then he grins. "No guarantee we won't kill each other in three days, though."

"Tch."

Sasuke looks around Naruto's apartment. Small, cramped, messy. The walls need to be repainted, the furniture seems more likely to be thirdhand than secondhand, and water stains color the dingy ceiling.

"Can't you afford to live somewhere better than this on a jounin's wages?" Sasuke asks.

"Yeah, but I'm saving up for a house for me and Hinata when we get married. I don't mind living in a shithole for now, so long as I can give her what she deserves sooner." Naruto pulls a face. "You shouldn't complain about my place anyway. Freeloader."

He's grinning, and it's so much more obnoxious than when he scowled.

"Call me a freeloader again and I'll go make camp in the training grounds. I've slept outside more than not for the last few years."

"Fine, you baby. You're not a freeloader. Of course…" Naruto shrugs in a way that he probably thinks is casual, but definitely isn't. "You could always stay with Sakura again. If you make up and—"

"No," Sasuke snaps. "That's out of the question."

Naruto shakes his head slowly. "What the hell happened between you too? You were cozy one minute, living together. Then you left, and Sakura was…"

Sasuke swallows, counts three things, and asks, "Sakura was what?"

"Mad," Naruto says flatly. "She was real mad at you, Sasuke. Still is. And sad. She barely said a word the first few months after you left, then started working herself to death at the hospital. Never really stopped. And she made some bad, uh… personal choices."

Sasuke can hear what Naruto isn't saying loud and clear. "You don't like her boyfriend?"

"This one?" Naruto asks. "Nah, Hideo's not bad. A definite step up from Taro. He cheated on her. And Kenji spread rumors about her. Ugly ones."

Sasuke can't help but be slightly pleased to hear that Sakura's previous boyfriends were losers, but much more than that, it pisses him off that they mistreated her.

"What kind of rumors?"

Naruto shifts uncomfortably, but he answers. "He told everyone she was bad in bed. Frigid, that's what he said. Bastard. It probably wasn't true, and even if it was, it was definitely unfair since he was—well, he was her first, I think."

Sakura, frigid? Hardly. On their night together, she was nervous (though no more so than him). Even timid at first, but not remotely cold. All it took was a few kisses to break through that tremulous fear, and when they went to bed together she was so passionate. Beautifully responsive, eager to please and needy. He'd never felt more alive, or more wanted than he did in Sakura's bed.

_Frigid_ couldn't be further from the truth.

"He wasn't her first," Sasuke says, without meaning to.

Naruto blinks once, twice, then asks, "How do you know that?"

Damn it. The last thing he needs is Naruto in his business, and now—

"Wait. You—you—" Naruto sputters, gesturing wildly. "You slept with Sakura? You slept with her and then you skipped town? Is that what happened?"

Sasuke turns away. "Stay out of it. It's not your concern, Naruto."

"Yeah it is!" he shouts. "This is _Sakura_. Our Sakura. My teammate, my best friend in the world after you, practically my family. It damn well is my concern that you—shit, Sasuke, how could you do that to her? You know she's in love with you!"

Sasuke clenches his fists. "I'm not fighting with you about this. It's done." He can't help but add, a little bitterly, "And I doubt she's in love with me now."

Naruto grabs his shoulder and yanks him around. "Shows how much you know. Of course she loves you. She wouldn't still be so mad if she didn't."

Sasuke jerks away, stepping out of Naruto's reach. "I'm done talking about this, and I want to sleep. It took a week to get here, and I'm tired."

The marks on Naruto's cheeks are standing out more than usual, and there's the slightest hint of red bleeding into the edges of his irises. But he cusses the anger out of his system, until his eyes are pure blue again, then points to Sasuke.

"Sleep if you're so tired. But tomorrow you're gonna make this right."

Sasuke doesn't answer. Arguing with Naruto is a lot like arguing with a brick wall, only Naruto is even more immovable and his head is significantly harder than bricks.

Naruto digs a ratty throw blanket and a flat pillow out of his closet and tosses them to Sasuke. Wordlessly, which is a marked improvement.

He lies on Naruto's lumpy couch in the dark, while his best friend stews in his bedroom. A prominent spring pokes the middle of his back. Someone in the alleyway is screaming at their neighbor, and a cat in heat starts yowling. It sounds almost as bad as Naruto when he gets drunk and sings. Sasuke turns onto his side, and the spring pokes him in the ribs instead of the spine.

Sakura has a boyfriend, Naruto is mad at him, he has three weeks of probation left, and he's spending his first night back in Konoha on a couch that could fit right in with Morino Ibiki's torture tools.

Home sweet home.

.

.

"You've been on _five_ dates, and you still haven't slept with him?" Ino asks.

She sounds horrified, like Sakura keeping her legs closed is an unforgivable sin.

"No," Sakura says, a little defensively. "Four dates. The fifth one is tonight."

Ino purses her lips, then says, "Is the kissing bad? Is that why you haven't—?"

"The kissing is fine!" Sakura hisses. "I'm just trying to take it slow. I moved fast with Kenji and Taro, and it certainly didn't do me any favors."

Ino snorts. "That wasn't the problem with Kenji and Taro, Forehead. The problem was that both of those men are pigs."

"Yes, well, I dumped them didn't I?"

"Not fast enough," Ino says haughtily.

She lifts her menu, scans it, then waves their waiter over to order. Rude, but then that's Ino. Sakura should be famished after her long shift at the hospital on top of no breakfast, but her stomach has been in knots ever since she saw Sasuke, so she only orders miso soup.

Ino frowns at her, but doesn't comment on it. Probably because she wants to keep grilling her about Hideo.

Sure enough, she says, "This one's not like Kenji and Taro. Hideo is a nice guy. Sweet. And not bad looking—I mean, not great looking, but not bad either—"

"Ino," Sakura says, warning.

She rolls her eyes. "You know what I'm saying. He'll probably be considerate in bed. Unlike your exes."

"Hm," Sakura says, because she doesn't want to risk any more.

She might have fibbed to Ino about Kenji and Taro, just a little. More a lie of omission, really, because she told Ino the sex was bad, and let her fill in the gaps about why. Kenji was a gossip who badmouthed her, but he wasn't selfish in bed. He tried to make it good for her every time, but it never worked. And Taro… well, Taro was a skilled, experienced lover, and very handsome. Sakura could tell from the way he touched her that he knew exactly what he was doing. It should have felt amazing, or at least good.

It didn't, though. Not the first time or the tenth or the twentieth. She couldn't get out of her head, hyperaware of everything happening, but in a strange, distant way. Like she was looking down on some other girl's body being used. Every touch felt off, out of place, about as arousing as being pinched or tickled. And the whole time, she couldn't stop _thinking_. Thinking so much that she could barely feel. Trying so hard to make herself like it that she nearly hated it.

She knows she's broken. There's no other explanation. Other women, like Ino, can't stop talking about their lovers. Bragging about their more adventurous sexual exploits and marathons. And all Sakura can think is, she'd rather be reading one of her medical books, or perhaps a trashy novel, and drinking a warm cup of jasmine tea than have sex. Because reading and drinking tea are calming, while sex stresses her out so much that she found herself avoiding it with both Kenji and Taro. Making excuses, picking up extra shifts at the hospital, anything to keep from facing the dull, dissatisfying experiences she always found between the sheets. That avoidance made Kenji resentful, and then it had driven Taro to cheat.

Broken, that's what she is.

With everyone except for Sasuke. Maybe because she loved him back then, or maybe simply because he's _Sasuke_. Incomparable in nearly every department that matters: looks, talent, intelligence, heart.

Unfortunately, he's also an incomparable bastard who abandoned her. And he apparently took her only hope for orgasming with him.

"Sakura?" Ino asks. "Did you hear me?"

She shakes her head. "Sorry. No."

"I said you should sleep with Hideo," Ino says. "Tonight, after your date."

"Yes, I'll be sure to base my sexual decisions on your stellar advice."

Ino lifts her chin. "You should. I understand these things much better than you."

"Ugh. You're unbearable."

They bicker without much heat until their waitress returns with Ino's sushi and Sakura's soup. It's excellent, the miso salty and rich, the tofu silky.

Ino lets her eat in peace for all of two minutes before saying, "So are you going to address the elephant in the room, or are you going to make me do it?"

Sakura sets down her spoon, then says, very slowly and clearly, "I do not want to talk about Sasuke."

"Come on. You have to be thinking something—"

"Oh, I'm thinking plenty. It's just the talking that I won't be doing. How's your sashimi?"

Ino sips from her glass of water, glowing over the straw, then says, "I'll get it out of you."

"Not today, you won't."

Not ever, if Sakura has her way.

Ino's lecture sticks with her for the rest of the afternoon, though. Sleep with Hideo, her nice new boyfriend, like that'll solve everything.

It won't. It doesn't matter how attentive he is, how considerate, how generous. She won't feel anything anyway, same as always.

(Not _always_ , because she has felt something once. The kind of pleasure other people seem to find so easily, she found it too, with Sasuke. But it's better if she doesn't think about that.)

.

.

Naruto hounded Sasuke all day about visiting Sakura and Talking Things Out. He said that about a hundred times— _you need to talk things out_ —as if one simple discussion is likely to fix his relationship with Sakura.

He breaks in the late afternoon, and says, "Fine. I'll go visit her. She probably won't even let me in, and if she doesn't, you have to stop haranguing me."

Naruto makes no promises. He'd never let something as small as a closed door stop him, and he probably thinks Sasuke should climb through Sakura's window if he has to. He doesn't say that, at least.

Sasuke silently curses Naruto all the way to Sakura's place—a tall, narrow house two blocks from the hospital. Much nicer than Naruto's dingy apartment, inside and out. The truth, though, is that he hasn't been bullied into this. Sasuke learned to ignore what other people expect him to do a long time ago, no matter how vehement or pushy they are. He's knocking on Sakura's cherry, yellow front door because he _wants_ to see her, plain and simple.

That can't lead anywhere good, but he does it anyway.

Sakura answers the door, and Sasuke sucks in a sharp breath.

She was beautiful in casual clothes in a ponytail yesterday, but right now she looks downright stunning. Her long hair hangs loose almost to her hips, like a sleek, cherry blossom curtain. Dark red lipstick emphasizes the softness of her mouth, and she's applied makeup around her pale green eyes that makes them stand out even more than usual. And the dress. It's a shade of red even darker than her lipstick, and it clings to her body like a second skin, so tightly that he can tell she's not wearing a bra beneath it. No underwear, either.

"Sasuke," she whispers, breathless. Then she scowls, stands taller, and says in a stronger voice, "What are you doing here."

Naruto's orders must have marinated his brain, because what pops out of his mouth is, "I want to talk things out."

He winces. Because he actually _doesn't_ want to talk things out, he's just so shocked by the sight of Sakura dressed up that he can't think straight.

She puts one hand on the door frame, effectively blocking her entrance. As if he'd try to barge in without her permission.

"I don't really have time. I'm about to go out."

"A date?" Sasuke asks.

Sakura's eyes narrow. "Naruto told you about Hideo?"

"No. I met him yesterday outside Kakashi's office. He told me he was my teammate's boyfriend. I assumed he didn't mean Naruto."

Sakura glances down at her feet, and Sasuke follows her gaze. She's wearing strappy, black high heels that add three or four inches to her height. Her nails are painted purple, almost the same color as the seal on her forehead. Sasuke looks back up at her face, still tilted downward. She's blushing so much that it shows through her carefully applied makeup.

"It doesn't have to be a long conversation," Sasuke says.

A lie. This isn't something that can be resolved in five minutes. It's something that probably can't be resolved at all.

Sakura's hand clenches around the frame, her knuckles white. She's about five seconds from slamming this door in his face, he thinks.

Then she lets go, steps backward, and says, "Fine. Come in."

He follows Sakura inside, half wishing that she'd kicked him out after all, with absolutely no idea how to make this right. But one way or another, he has to try.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a little overwhelmed by the positive response to the first chapter of this fic! To be quite honest, it didn’t get a lot of hits, but the ratio to comments has been better than any story I’ve ever posted. I can’t tell you how encouraging that is. So thank you all for your support! It means a lot to me.
> 
> I also want to say thank you to everyone who mentioned in comments that you hope my health improves. That’s so kind, and it’s nice to find that sort of concern among my readers.
> 
> Happy Almost New Year, and I hope to be back with more fic soon!


	3. Gonna Be Fine (Maybe Not Tonight)

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.

Sasuke is standing in the middle of her living room, and it's both excruciatingly foreign and beautifully familiar. He lived here with her in the months before he left, and in that time they settled into a nearly domestic routine. Sharing meals, sometimes in companionable silence, but usually with gentle conversation. Cleaning together on Sundays, with the windows thrown open to let in sunshine and fresh air, whenever the weather allowed. Drinking tea together in this very room. Occasionally Sakura would read aloud for him. Sasuke has always liked stories, but he told her he had little patience with reading, so she'd share whatever book had caught her fancy that week. Once it was a romance novel (a chaste one, thankfully), and although she'd expected Sasuke to balk at that, he listened attentively and without complaint.

Back then, people made assumptions about them living together, but the truth was much more innocent than the rumors. Sasuke wasn't her boyfriend or her lover. Simply a friend in need of a place to stay. Without a home of his own and no way to get one while on probation, it made the most sense for him to live with her, since she had a spare bedroom and Naruto didn't.

Now he's here again, but his presence no longer feels warm and comforting, and those domestic rituals are worlds away.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Sakura asks. If she sounds more strained than polite, that's too bad.

Sasuke shakes his head, just as she expects him to.

He says nothing for so long that the quiet stretches scarce and thin, like not enough jam scraped across toast.

Sakura stands as straight as she can, forcing her voice to stay firm when she says, "Well. You said you wanted to talk to me. So talk."

Sasuke looks her up and down. Again. He's done that at least three times since she let him through the door. It makes her feel examined—and flushed. Because it's not a subtle or respectful perusal, and the heat of his gaze reminds her of their night together. He'd looked at her exactly like this before he kissed her for the first time. Before he stripped her out of her clothes and took her to bed.

Remembering that night makes her nipples tighten, and she crosses her arms over her chest to hide that. She should have worn a damn bra, and panties besides. But she'd decided to take Ino's advice and sleep with Hideo tonight, and so dressed as scandalously as she dared. In hopes that a tight dress with nothing beneath it might make her feel sexy. It didn't work—but this, Sasuke drinking in the sight of her like he'd enjoy nothing more than getting her naked, that makes her feel sexy. And powerful.

"Well," Sakura says again.

Sasuke looks her in the eyes and says, "I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have—" He glances away, his jaw tight. "Sleeping with you, then leaving like I did, it was wrong. You deserve better than that."

Sakura can't breathe. Not in a too-shocked-to-inhale-evenly kind of way. Air is stuck in her lungs, burning hotter with every second it stays trapped there. It feels like an anvil is sitting on the middle of her chest, the pressure building, growing heavier and heavier. Then, finally, she takes a breath that seems to fill her whole body, and has to cover her mouth to smother her gasp.

Sasuke takes a half step toward her, reaching out. He stops, lowers his hand, and clenches his fist at his side.

"If you knew it was wrong, why did you do it?" she asks.

Sasuke sighs, a world-weary sound too aged for a man who won't even be twenty-three until next month.

"I was weak," he whispers. "I wanted you, and I lost my grip on my self-control."

Sakura laughs, even though this isn't remotely funny. "I wasn't asking why you slept with me. I was asking why you left."

_You idiot_. She comes very close to saying it, but holds herself back.

"Oh. The reason I…"

Sasuke is a man of few words, but he rarely has trouble speaking when he chooses to. But in this moment, answering this particular question—the only question that matters—he flounders.

"I… I needed to work through my turmoil, and to make up for some of the harm I caused, wherever I could."

Sakura forces herself not to do something childish, like take off one of her shoes and throw it at him.

"But why _then?_ Why sneak off in the middle of the night, leaving me nothing but a letter for a goodbye?"

A letter she's been tempted to burn more than once, but can never work up the gumption to destroy.

"Because I was a coward," Sasuke says flatly. "I knew it was a bad idea to sleep together, and afterward I didn't know how to say that. So I just left. At the time, I thought it might be easier for you. Now I know I only did it because it was easier for me. I realize that's an ugly truth, but I'm trying to be more honest these days."

A bad idea. Sasuke dismisses the most wonderful night of her life as _a bad idea_ like it's nothing, because of course he does. Somehow, it manages to hurt like hell to hear that, despite the fact that she expected it. It's no surprise that he regrets fucking her. Skipping town a few scant hours afterward made that abundantly clear. So why, then, does she feel like she's going to be sick?

"I accept your apology," Sakura says woodenly.

Sasuke frowns. "I didn't actually say I'm sorry yet."

She takes a deep breath and prays for patience. "I know you intended to. That's good enough for me."

He cants his head, his fine eyebrows drawing closer together. "I'm not expecting you to forgive me."

"That's good, because I don't," Sakura says. "I can accept your apology without accepting _you_ back into my life. I'd like to be civil for Naruto's sake, especially since he'll undoubtedly want to do things together as a team, but other than that…" She shrugs. "I think it would be best for you to give me space. You've said your piece, and I listened. Now I'd like to never talk about this again."

Because if she has to hear him call their lovemaking _a bad idea_ for a second time she might break. She's already fractured, barely held together since the night he left. It would take so little to shatter her.

Sasuke nods tightly. "If that's what you want."

"It is."

She looks at her clock, and finds that it's seven minutes after five.

"I need to go," she says. "I'm already late."

She hurries Sasuke out of her house, locks up, and walks to the restaurant as quickly as she can. It's lovely outside, warm but not oppressively so, the sky clear. The barely waning moon shines down on everything, silver and watchful. Night-blooming flowers and freshly mown grass fill the air with an earthy, green scent, tinged with sweetness.

Sakura supposes it's a beautiful night to have her heart broken all over again.

When she reaches the restaurant, she doesn't go inside immediately. Instead, she slips into an alley and rests against the side of the building, arms braced on the wall. She allows herself a few ragged breaths, and for tears to gather in her eyes. But she doesn't let them fall. She dabs at her eyelashes to catch the tears without smearing her makeup. She spent so much time applying it, and she refuses to ruin her mascara over a man.

Just yesterday she wished that Sasuke could see her on her way to a date. Now that he has, she wants nothing more than to unwind time and turn him away on her doorstep. Because now she's collected another rejection from Sasuke, and it hurts so much more than a letter.

Maybe he was right. Maybe leaving like he did, suddenly and without a word (anywhere but on paper), _was_ easier for her.

She can't keep thinking about this. It's over, it's done. It's been done for five years. Hell, it was over before it started, apparently, because Sasuke has never wanted to be with her. Fuck her, yes. In his moment of weakness, he said. But nothing more.

She almost hates him. Only _almost_ , even though it would be so much easier to dismiss him if she could just despise him.

She has to let this go. If she keeps dwelling on it, it will only ruin her night. And tonight is not for Uchiha Sasuke. It's for her, and for Hideo.

Sakura pulls away from the wall, straightens her dress, and goes inside to meet her boyfriend.

.

.

Sasuke doesn't go back to Naruto's place. Instead, he walks around the village, learning the buildings that have cropped up in his absence, the new shops and houses and apartments. Life went on while he traveled, trying to redeem himself.

Sakura went on, too, and he can't blame her for that. Even if it does make his stomach twist to imagine her meeting up with her boyfriend in that red dress, looking like she was poured into it. With nothing on underneath, if he's not mistaken. A woman doesn't forego underwear on a date unless she plans not to need any.

Or so he’s heard. It’s not like he has any practical experience, apart from his one night with Sakura.

He does _not_ want to keep thinking about Sakura and the boyfriend she’s undoubtedly going to sleep with after their date. It makes him too angry. Irrationally angry, considering that he has no claim on her and never will.

Sasuke circles around to the Academy. There's a swing here, just like at the old school, the one where he and Naruto and Sakura started. Their class grew up in each other's pockets, and even though he always kept to himself, he couldn't help but notice her. A sheltered, spoiled little brat back then, but a pretty one. He was too young and too focused on becoming a strong ninja to have any interest in romance. Still, he took note of Haruno Sakura, with her big mouth and bigger heart and hair the color of the cherry blossoms she was named for. Only a blind boy could have overlooked her.

That much hasn't changed, even if everything else has.

Sasuke considers taking a seat on the swing, but it's too low to the ground for a grown man, so he just sits in the grass instead. That's nothing new for him, after five years traveling across the continent, and the itinerant time with Orochimaru and Taka before that. Not to mention the missions that took Team 7 out into the forests and fields of the Fire Country. He spent so many nights outside with Kakashi, Naruto, and Sakura. Always with Sakura sleeping as close to him as he would allow, because she was downright shameless about her crush on him.

Somewhere during his time with Team 7, Sasuke started imagining what it might be like to _be_ with Sakura. To accept her love—because it was love by then, not just a crush, and they both knew it. He considered a future with her. The idea of restoring his clan suddenly seemed much less abstract than before, less a task to perform for the sake of honoring and continuing his family, and more an opportunity for something like happiness. Sakura could meet his loneliness and push it away by simply holding his hand. She made him feel hope. She made him picture a future beyond, or maybe even without, revenge.

He wishes, more than anything, that he'd stayed in Konoha. If he had, he might have grown into a man worthy of her. Despite everything he'd lost, as a genin he still knew how to love. Because he loved _her_ , by the end. That was what he thanked her that night, when she begged to leave the village with him. She probably has no idea that that's what he meant. After all, he hoped she wouldn't know.

Now it's too late. The moment he chose Orochimaru, and power, and revenge, he lost his chance with Sakura. There's no coming back from his sins, no matter how hard he tries. Some blood is too red to wash off your hands.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating in three days? Not bad, if I do say so myself lol. Thank you to everybody who’s leaving kudos and comments. Truly, they are a writer’s lifeblood. I read each one several times, and I appreciate your feedback so much. It’s incredibly encouraging—thus the quick update!
> 
> Happy New Year, guys. I don’t know about y’all, but I will not be missing 2020’s dreadful ass! 😂


	4. Some Things Never Sleep

.

.

“Are you okay?” Hideo asks.

Sakura turns onto her side, facing him, careful to keep her breasts covered by the sheet. She aches between her legs, a soreness that’s not quite pain. Hideo spent an excruciatingly long time going down on her, and she _still_ wasn’t wet enough to make the rest easy. He was gentle, generous, and caring. Everything a lover should be, everything that would make a normal woman enjoy herself in bed.

Not Sakura, though. It felt like he touched her through a veil, some invisible barrier that allowed his hands to fall on her body, but kept them from giving her pleasure.

Is she okay? No, she isn’t okay at all.

Sakura makes herself smile. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. I had a really long day.”

Hideo reaches over and cups her cheek. _That_ she can feel, the kindness and tenderness he’s sharing, and her smile softens into something more genuine. He’s a good man, much better than Kenji or Taro. This time can be different. She has to believe that.

“You work harder than anyone I know,” he says. “And I spend half my time guarding the Hokage.”

Sakura snorts. “That’s not as high of a compliment as you think. Kakashi is as lazy as they come.”

Hideo laughs, then says, “Look, all I’m saying is that you spend more time at the hospital than you do at home, not to mention all the missions you take. I admire it, but I do worry that maybe you’re not giving yourself enough time for… well, _yourself_.”

When Hideo takes her hand, she holds on tight. “That’s the point,” she whispers. “If I stay busy, then I don’t have to think about myself. It’s simpler that way.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to think about yourself?” he asks.

Sakura takes a deep, shivering breath, then exhales in fits and starts. She refuses to cry in front of her boyfriend of two weeks. “Because when I look inside, I don’t usually like what I find.”

She wasn’t always this way. Even after Sasuke left Konoha the first time, leaving her behind on that unforgiving stone bench, Sakura still had faith in herself. Determined to become stronger, confident that she could succeed the Godaime someday, and resolved to bring Sasuke home.

Except, when he did come back—when she shared her house and her bed and her body with him—he didn’t stay. Sakura doesn’t like the bitter thing she’s become since he abandoned her, but she can’t seem to help it.

It’s almost funny: there’s nothing she can’t heal, except for her own heart.

Hideo squeezes her hand gently. “Well, I like everything about you. I hope you will too, someday.”

Sakura leans in and kisses him. This part is nice, his lips so soft against hers, his big hand cradling the back of her neck, making her feel safe and kept. She wishes the rest of it was this pleasant.

When their mouths part, Hideo pulls her close and says, “By the way, I forgot to tell you, I met Sasuke. I’m not sure what he wanted from the Hokage, exactly, but—”

“Oh, I can tell you,” Sakura says, with venom she can’t hold in. “I guarantee he wanted to get on the shinobi payroll right away.”

“Well, that’s not bad, is it?” Hideo asks, sounding confused. “I’d want my job back quickly too, if I’d been away as long as he has.”

Sakura forces herself not to snap at him when she says, “Staying away is the point. Sasuke couldn’t even spend five minutes in the village without making sure he’ll be able to leave again as soon as possible. _Home_ means nothing to him.”

Hideo doesn’t answer for so long that Sakura feels compelled to fill the silence with a question. “Was he nice to you?”

“Not really,” Hideo says, obviously unbothered. “He was pretty rude, actually.”

“Well, that sounds like Sasuke. Good to know he hasn’t developed any manners in the last five years.”

Hideo plays with her long hair, twisting it around his fingers loosely. “Have you seen him yet?”

“Yeah,” Sakura says. “He showed up at Naruto’s place while I was there. It went fine.”

Of course, that’s not the only time she’s seen Sasuke, but his latest rejection is too fresh for Sakura to consider mentioning that he visited her. And it might give Hideo the wrong impression, could make him think there’s something between her and Sasuke. The only things between them now are resentment and regrets.

Sakura changes the subject to Hideo’s last mission, and he tells her about his trip to Snow. He’s so easygoing and talkative, quick to share the details with her (even ones he really shouldn’t). She isn’t used to that, a man who gives all of himself so happily. Kenji was cold and distant, Taro arrogant and secretive. And Sasuke…

Well, she never could figure out how to reach Sasuke.

After Hideo falls asleep, Sakura gets out of bed, washes up in the bathroom, and puts on fresh panties and an old shirt. High-collared, dark blue, worn from many washings. This shirt is the most comforting thing she owns, because of the man who left it behind.

She’s not going to sleep tonight. Insomnia has plagued her enough over the years that she can tell when trying to rest is pointless. Better to keep herself occupied than lie in bed with her mind going in never-ending circles. She makes herself a cup of tea (rooibos this time), plucks one of her favorite novels off the bookshelf, and curls up on the couch to read, a throw blanket wrapped around her.

It’s the best kind of book, in Sakura’s opinion. Too romantic to be literary, but too sad to be a romance. The ending is three hundred-odd pages away, but she’s read it enough times to remember exactly where this is going. The missed signals and miscommunications, the white lies and hard truths. Every bit of it builds to the moment that shatters the lovers, dividing one into two again. But there’s a spark of hope on the last page, a hint that maybe once enough time has passed, they’ll find and forgive one another.

It’s a pretty sentiment, Sakura thinks, but not very realistic.

.

.

Sasuke can’t sleep.

He’ll take insomnia over bad dreams and flashbacks, but five nights in a row with only brief snatches of rest wear him down.

The reason for his sleeplessness has a name: Haruno Sakura.

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees her. Sometimes the way she was the last time they spoke, wearing that skin-tight dress, her lips painted red and turned down in a scowl.

Other times, he pictures Sakura as she was when they were genin. Starry-eyed, spoiled, and pretty. An annoyance—until she wasn't. In just a few months, she went from an irritating stranger to the most precious person in his life. And his greatest liability, a stumbling block on the road to revenge.

But usually, Sasuke sees the Sakura of five years ago. Not the child who blindly adored him or the woman who now hates him. That Sakura wanted him, just as he truly was, despite everything he'd done.

She doesn't want him anymore, and that's for the best. No matter how much he hates it.

Early in the morning, Naruto kicks the couch and says, “Get up. It’s the third Saturday of the month.”

Sasuke sits up and glares at Naruto. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Oh. Yeah I guess it wouldn’t. Sakura and I get breakfast together every third Saturday. Sometimes Kakashi shows up, and Sai every now and then.”

Sasuke tries not to bristle at the mention of Sai. It’s petty to be jealous that his team filled the space he left empty with another shinobi, but petty or not, he’s jealous anyway.

“You should come too,” Naruto says. “It’ll be a real Team 7 thing then.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Sasuke rubs his right temple. A headache is building there, thanks to another sleepless night. “It’s not at Ichiraku is it?”

“Nope. Sakura says she can’t eat ramen for breakfast anymore.”

Not for the first time (or even the hundredth), Sasuke is thankful for Sakura.

He showers, shaves, and spends more time fussing with his hair than he can justify. On the road, it was easier to let it grow out than trim it all the time. He wonders if Sakura likes it this way.

She probably doesn’t care at all. Besides, getting a haircut to please a woman would be ridiculous.

Sakura is already at the restaurant when they arrive. Her blue dress is too simple to be formal, but too nice to be casual. She braided and pinned up her hair in a way that reminds him of a crown. No lipstick today, but she might be wearing subtle makeup. Either she usually gets dolled up for breakfast with her team, or she expected him to be here and wanted to impress. A small, selfish part of him hopes she dressed up for him.

Maybe not so small.

“Good morning,” Sakura says, looking right past him to Naruto.

Naruto slides into the booth across from her, and Sakura sets her purse on her left side. A clear message that he’s not welcome to sit there.

Sasuke knows she has every reason to be angry with him. He knows he deserves all the passive aggression—and straightforward aggression—that she wants to send in his direction. But he’s never been able to take a challenge lying down.

He picks up Sakura’s purse, puts it on the floor under the table, and sits next to her.

For a moment, he thinks she might knock him out of the booth with a chakra-enhanced punch, but she just scoots over until she’s practically climbing the wall. Even so, the booth is so tiny that there’s only a few inches between them.

Naruto glances at Sakura, then at him, and hides behind his menu.

Sakura snatches up her own menu and stares at it pointedly, but her eyes aren’t moving. She’s simply refusing to look at him, not actually reading.

This was a mistake. Sitting so close to her, he can smell her perfume. Not sweet like the vanilla she used to wear. This scent is dark and floral, like the night-blooming orchids that grew all over the garden behind his family’s house. It tempts him to lean in and kiss her throat, right on the pulse point where he once saw her dab perfume.

Sasuke forces himself not to stare at her. It’s more difficult than he’s proud of.

When he opens his menu, his elbow knocks into Sakura’s. She jumps, then grumbles something under her breath, too low for him to make out.

“If bumping elbows bothers you that much, we can always switch seats. I don’t have one on my left side,” Sasuke says dryly.

Sakura covers her mouth, but not quickly enough to hide her giggle.

“You can laugh. Won’t offend me.”

Sakura smirks. “Like I’m even capable of offending you. You don’t care what anybody thinks or says about you.”

_I care what_ you _think._

He’s not stupid enough to say that, though.

"What's good here?" he asks Sakura.

Naruto answers, babbling about how awesome the tamagoyaki is, and Sasuke would like to strangle him. He doesn't give a damn about the food. He just wants to keep talking to Sakura while she's still smiling at him.

But that smile falls from her lips, and then she's silent beside him again.

Their waitress banters with Naruto and Sakura while she takes their orders, the way servers do with their regulars. When she asks Sasuke what he wants, her voice turns icy.

He’s too used to being hated by strangers to care. Maybe Sakura has a point about his apathy.

After the waitress walks away, Naruto says, "Sorry about that. The waiters here are usually really nice."

"It's fine."

"It's not fine," Sakura snaps. "You saved the world. A little gratitude isn't too much to ask for."

The last thing he ever expected was for Sakura to defend him, but here she is, doing exactly that.

"One good thing doesn't make up for all my mistakes before that," Sasuke says.

"Maybe not, but when the 'one good thing' is that big, it counts for a lot."

Naruto clears his throat, then says, "Aww, man, I forgot I promised Kakashi-sensei I'd help him with… uh, something this morning."

"You're not leaving are you?" Sakura asks, her voice high and thin.

Naruto is already standing up as he says, "Sorry, yeah, gotta run! But you guys have fun. Yanno, catch up or something."

"Naruto!" Sakura hisses, but he's hurrying away.

Sasuke clenches his right fist, and the phantom of his left hand copies the motion. He'll never get used to that feeling, the aching illusion of the arm he lost, but it's still less painful than how still and quiet Sakura is beside him.

"I can go, if you want," Sasuke whispers.

She doesn't answer. Which is answer enough.

When he starts to slide out of the booth, Sakura grabs his hand. Her voice comes out choked and trembling as she says, "You don't have to leave."

Her hand is warm in his, and it sends a wave of heat over his whole body. She's touching him, bare skin to skin, for the first time since the night they made love. Her rosy lips part, like she's about to say more, and he can't look away from her mouth.

Sasuke wonders if she ever thinks about the kisses they shared. Those kisses—and all the other things they did—have haunted him for over five years.

"I mean, only if you want to stay," she says quickly. "Obviously. I bet Naruto dragged you to this, so if you'd rather leave now that he's gone, that's fine. I don't expect you to—"

"Sakura. I want to stay."

"Oh."

She bites her lower lip, which does things to him that aren't appropriate for a public place. He remembers her biting her lip just like that while he was inside her, trying to hold in her moans. She wasn't very good at being quiet.

Sakura tries to pull away, but Sasuke doesn't allow it. He grips her hand harder. So hard that it's clingy, pathetic, but he can't make himself let go.

Sakura's cheeks flush a pretty pink that complements her hair.

"Stop looking at me like that," she says.

Sasuke doesn't have to ask what she means, because he knows exactly how he's looking at her. Like he's seen her naked, and he wants to get her out of her clothes again.

Because he has, and he does.

All of this is dangerous. Touching Sakura. Making her laugh. Reminding her of the night they gave each other something you can only give a lover once.

She yanks her hand out of his grasp. "Never mind, let me out. _I'll_ go."

Sasuke does as she says. He might be desperate, but pride keeps him from asking her to stay. Pride, and good sense.

Sakura drops a fold of ryo on the table. "That should cover all the food."

"You don't have to pay for—"

But she's already walking away from him.

Sasuke supposes it's a sight he better get used to. Sakura hasn't forgiven him and never will. He'll probably be watching her back for the rest of their lives.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI for people give a damn about such things: my playlist for this fic includes “Heartbeat” by Childish Gambino, “Crazy In Love (Remix)” by Beyonce, “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails, “Rehab” by Rihanna, and Darren Criss’s version of “Teenage Dream”. If you like to analyze lyrics, you’ll find semi spoilers in them heh ;)
> 
> I mentioned this in my notes on TVOTE, but for those who may be reading this fic and not TVOTE, I’m setting myself an update schedule that should help me post chapters more regularly.
> 
> If you’re interested in reading chapters early, check out my tumblr (my handle is southsidestory there as well) for how to do that. My pinned post has all the info.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who’s been reading and reviewing! Please consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed this chapter. :)


	5. Did I Build This Ship to Wreck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I’m going to do something I’ve never done before and ask readers not to leave me any negative comments.**
> 
> Even if you hate this chapter, please, please do not leave a negative review. I’m asking this because I’m in a very fragile state at the moment. **I just left my spouse, who I’ve been in an abusive relationship with for 11 and a half years.** In the last month, I’ve lost my marriage, my home, my financial security, my safety net, and my precious dog whom I love like a child. So, please, if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.
> 
> I’ve had three chapters of this fic completed for weeks, as well as one of The Valley of the End. I’ve hesitated to update because I’ve been so afraid that people will send me mean reviews. Several folks have left me negative comments on other stories in the last month, some extremely nasty and even triggering, and in my current situation they were very painful to receive. I can delete reviews, but I still have to read them. If folks leave me any unkind comments on this story, I probably won’t update anything again for quite a while, until I’ve had more time to heal and find stability.
> 
> Those of you who have left me positive comments lately have helped boost my spirits more than I can possibly express, and I can’t thank you enough.

.

.

“What has you in such a foul mood?” Tsunade asks.

“My mood is fine,” Sakura hisses.

She realizes that she just wrote a page full of notes on the wrong patient’s chart.

“Fuck!”

Sakura throws her pen down. It bounces off the mess of papers and files before her, rolls away, and falls off her desk.

She takes a slow, deep breath, searching for composure. Because she’s about two seconds away from turning her desk into kindling over a goddamn pen.

Except, it’s not really about the pen at all.

Tsunade raises her eyebrows. “If this is your ‘fine’ mood I don’t want to see the bad one.”

“Yeah, you don’t,” Sakura snaps.

As soon as those words leave her mouth, she regrets them.

Tsunade’s brown eyes narrow. She puts one hand on her hip, then says, “Since charting isn’t going so well for you today, I think you should do some jounin physicals. It’s that time again.”

Sakura groans. Hospital and village policy requires all active shinobi to get a physical once a year. Genin in the autumn, chuunin in the spring, and jounin in the summer. She’s convinced that there are no worse patients than jounin getting physicals. They act like she’s wasting their time by taking their blood pressure and checking their reflexes.

Shinobi are so much easier to work with when they’re injured. And hours of back-to-back physicals might drive her to inflict some injuries.

“I’m sorry, shishou. That was rude, but you know I _hate_ —”

“Don’t want to hear it,” Tsunade says. “It’s physicals or rectal exams. You choose.”

Honestly, it takes her a moment to decide.

Sakura sighs. “Physicals.”

“That’s my girl.” Tsunade claps her on the shoulder. “Next time Sasuke pisses you off, take it out on him instead of me. Got it?”

She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from telling Tsunade to mind her own business. (She doesn’t want to end up performing physicals _and_ rectal exams.)

Each ninja Sakura treats seems to be more disgruntled than the last. Some of them give snarky answers when she asks the required questions, while others tell her this is stupid because they’re in peak condition. One Hyuuga shinobi gets up and walks out on her when she tries to examine his eyes. (That, she must admit, is pointless—you won’t find any better sight than the byakugan—but it would be very bad form to skip any part of the exam because she assumes her patient is healthy.) The next ninja sounds a little too eager when he asks if he should take off his pants, and Sakura is relieved to be able to say, “Just your shirt is fine.”

She fits all twenty jounin physicals on her schedule into her fourteen-hour shift. Skipping her lunch break is the only reason she gets out by nine o’clock, but it’s worth it to leave half an hour early.

A smart woman would go straight home after a day like this. Cook a large dinner to make up for not eating all day, take a bubble bath, and turn in early.

Then she thinks about Sasuke. How warm his hand felt in her own. How he looked at her, so blatantly sexual—and just that, his intense gaze fixed on her, made her wet. Thinking about it now makes her wet again.

Sakura decides that she needs a drink more than dinner and a bubble bath.

She goes to a civilian bar, one she found a couple of years ago and has frequented ever since. Because shinobi don't come here, no one she knows is likely to gossip about her. It’s a dive, the bartop scuffed and floor in need of sweeping, the liquor cheap enough to double as a cleaning agent.

Sakura doesn’t give a fuck. Tonight, when it comes to her drinks, she’s more interested in quantity than quality.

When she downs her third cup of shochu in five minutes, the barkeep asks, “You okay?”

“Difficult day,” Sakura says. “Scratch that. Make it a difficult ten years.”

Since the night Sasuke left her for the first time. Because, if she’s honest, she knows he never came back. Not really. The boy she loved is long gone.

The room feels hotter and closer all of a sudden, her palms damp. The alcohol hasn’t hit her bloodstream yet, but it will soon. She prays it brings sweet oblivion with it.

Sakura orders a bowl of edamame and a platter of yakitori, because if she doesn’t put something on her stomach, all her shochu might not stay down long enough to get her well and truly drunk. It’s a careful balance, eating enough to settle her belly but not so much that it keeps her sober. She strikes it easily, though, because she’s spent too many nights exactly like this.

What would Sasuke think if he could see her right now? Probably that she’s pathetic. One more lonely soul in a hole-in-the-wall bar, finding peace of mind by drinking because she can’t get it any other way.

Sakura would be a bad doctor if she couldn’t recognize depression in her patients. From a distance, she knows that’s the word for the suffocating sadness she carries with her every day, but diagnosing herself is much harder than diagnosing someone else. And if she faces it, just another way in which she’s damaged—and gods, there are so many already—she’ll have to do something about it.

She wonders if this is how Sasuke felt when he lost his clan. Like everything bright and good had suddenly turned dull and wrong. Weighed down by apathy as much as sorrow.

Even now, when she’s so angry at him—and angrier at herself for how strongly he still affects her—Sakura cares. She hopes that wandering gave him time to recover from all he’s lost, the grief and trauma he’s suffered.

Sasuke leaving broke her, but if it helped him heal, then at least her pain is worth something.

The room wobbles around her, or maybe _she's_ wobbling on this uncomfortable stool. Either way, it means she’s finally going to feel something good.

Not as good as staying up all night with Sasuke, sharing a bed without even kissing, talking through the dark hours, like they did so many times.

Not as good as feeling his hands all over her, his mouth on hers. Making love, their hearts connected as much as their bodies. Or, at least that was how it felt to her.

Sakura waves down the bartender. She’s going to need more to drink to get Sasuke off her mind. A _lot_ more.

.

.

Sasuke finally manages to rest—by sleeping on the floor.

The downside is that in the morning, he’s woken by Hinata tripping over him.

“Sasuke! I’m so sorry,” she says. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” When she starts to say she's sorry again, he waves her off. "Really, it's fine."

Listening to her stutter through a dozen apologies would be more painful than being stepped on for two seconds. That's not a very nice thought, but then, he's never been very nice. Especially not when his mind is stuck on Sakura, and it already is.

"Hinata!" Naruto says. Too loudly, considering that the kitchen and living room share the same space. "Come help me with this soup. I think I'm doing something wrong."

"I'm sure it's okay," Hinata says.

Sasuke mutters, "I'm sure it's not."

Apparently Naruto hears him, because he shouts, "Fuck off! I'm gonna be a great cook with a little more practice."

There's not enough practice in the world to fix Naruto's cooking. No wonder he lived off microwaveable ramen when they were kids. Hinata isn't much better in the kitchen, probably because she's a Hyuuga heiress who's had chefs serving her whatever she wants all her life.

Not like Sakura. She's an excellent cook, which surprised him when they lived together. He imagined that a kunoichi as busy as she is wouldn't make time for something as mundane as cooking, but she did.

While Sasuke gets ready for the day, he thinks of Sakura as she was yesterday morning at the restaurant. Dressed up—for him, he's almost certain—and annoyed. Until he made her laugh with a dry joke, and for a moment, it felt like old times. Maybe if he tries harder, apologizes more articulately and vows to do better, Sakura will give him a chance at friendship.

That's what he's missed the most. More than her body or her kisses, he's yearned for dinners at the same table and the conversation they shared between bites. Training together, listening to her read, just sitting in the same damn room, even when they were doing separate things.

Sakura said she wants space, but they've had five years of that. He can't picture more time apart helping them heal. While he was gone, he never dared to dream of having Sakura as his friend again. After all that he did to her, then how he left her (again), he doesn't deserve her time or attention. But now that he's back in Konoha, he realizes that he can't let her slip out of his life entirely. Not without putting up a fight.

Sasuke sneaks out of Naruto's apartment while he and Hinata are distracted by something burning on the stove. Because if Naruto asks where he's going, he'll have to lie. That or suffer the knucklehead's nosy questions.

It's early, but not so early that it's rude to visit someone unannounced. Still, when he reaches Sakura's house, he hesitates. She doesn't want him here. Doesn't want anything to do with him at all. She made that crystal clear, but here he is anyway, ignoring her wishes. He should go back to Naruto's place, accept a serving of an undoubtedly very bad breakfast, and swallow it down along with his need to see Sakura.

That's what he should do.

Instead, he knocks.

It takes Sakura a long time to answer, and when she does, he hears her irritated voice before the door is half-open.

"Naruto, it's too damn early for—" She stops, stock still and silent. Then says, "Sasuke. I—I told you…"

Sakura trails off, wincing, and covers her eyes.

She looks miserable and smells like alcohol. Her breath is minty, so she’s already brushed her teeth. That means she drank enough last night to be sweating out liquor the next morning. Her hair is pulled up in a large, messy bun, pink tendrils falling around her face. Smudged mascara rings her swollen eyes in sooty black.

She’s a disaster, but even like this, she’s still the most beautiful thing Sasuke has ever seen.

"Come in," she says, her voice so scratchy it could rival Gaara's.

It's only once he's inside her house that he realizes what she's wearing: a faded blue, high-collared shirt—and either nothing else or just underwear because her slender legs are completely bare.

"That's my shirt," Sasuke says.

Sakura grabs the hem of it and tugs at it like she's trying to cover herself, but it doesn't work very well.

She shrugs one shoulder, her head tilted downward. "So what? It's comfortable."

"I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just surprised you didn't throw it away."

She looks up at him then, frowning. "I'm not petty or impractical enough to trash good clothes over a man."

Sasuke tries to keep his eyes fixed on her face, but he can't help it when his gaze drifts lower. The shape of her nipples shows through the thin material of his old shirt, and her legs are just as perfect as he remembers. Strong, slim thighs and delicate, sculpted calves, fit but still distinctly feminine.

"Did you need something?" Sakura asks.

_You_ , Sasuke thinks.

Telling that truth isn't remotely possible, so he just says, "I wanted to apologize. For yesterday. I seemed to make you uncomfortable at breakfast."

"You made me uncomfortable because of how you were looking at me. Which you're doing again now."

Shit. He's been staring at her legs all this time.

Sasuke forces himself to meet her eyes. He expects her to be angry, and she _is_ trying to scowl, but he can see the spark of triumph she's attempting to hide. She likes him looking at her, at least a little.

"If that's bothering you so much, you could put on some pants," Sasuke suggests lightly.

Sakura huffs. There, now she's properly pissed off.

"I shouldn't have to cover up in my own home when you've dropped in unexpectedly just to keep from being stared at like—like…"

There are many ways to finish that sentence accurately, but Sasuke doubts she can do so without blushing.

Sakura flinches. "Now isn't a good time. I'm not feeling well."

"Hmm."

"Don't 'hmm' me, all judgemental, like you've never had a hangover before," Sakura says, pouting prettily. Because she does everything prettily.

"I'm not judging," Sasuke lies. "How much you drink is your business."

Sakura walks away, toward the kitchen. She doesn't invite him to follow her, but Sasuke does anyway. He leans against the counter while she puts a kettle on, snaps up some loose leaf tea into an infuser, and puts it in her favorite mug. The misshapen, green-glazed clay one that Lee made for her when he went through a pottery phase.

"You've changed a few things," Sasuke says. "New fridge. And new curtains, right?"

"Yeah. My mom kept nagging at me about my fridge being ancient, so I finally broke down and got a new one just to get her to stop."

Mebuki is a good woman, and it's somewhat soothing to know that she's still an overbearing mother hen. It drives Sakura crazy, but Sasuke finds it charming.

"She was right. That fridge was older than we are."

Sakura rolls her eyes, but now she's smiling. "It is nice not to worry about this one losing power randomly."

Sasuke can't help but smile back. "Remember when it shut off in the night, and that whole loin of tuna you bought went bad?"

"Don't remind me," she says, half groaning, half laughing. "Do you have any idea how expensive an entire loin of sushi-grade tuna is? And I had to go out and buy another one to make those rolls for Hinata's birthday party. Because of course Naruto invited half the village." She shakes her head. "Anyway, yeah. New fridge. New curtains. I remodeled the upstairs bathroom and replaced the duvet too—"

She stops suddenly, her cheeks flushed. It takes a moment for Sasuke to figure out why. When it clicks, his throat tightens too much for him to speak. Not that he wants to.

Her old duvet was ivory with green vines and leaves embroidered on it. The night they had sex, they didn't make it beneath the covers. He took her on her back, right on that duvet. And afterward, there was a bright red blot left on the white fabric, about the size of his palm. Blood, even though Sakura claimed it hadn't hurt much. By morning, that stain had turned the color of rust. Sasuke remembers looking at it for a long, hard moment before walking out the door.

Was that why she threw away that duvet? To get rid of the evidence of their night together?

The kettle whistles, and Sakura jumps. She turns off the stove, pours the steaming water into her mug, and sets a timer. A reminder not to forget her tea, because without one she’ll let it over steep nine times out of ten.

"How's it going living with Naruto?" she asks.

"Fine." Sasuke considers keeping it at that, then decides to be frank. "Not great, actually. I haven't been sleeping well. And Naruto… he's like my brother, but living with him makes me want to strangle him."

"From what I understand of brothers, that's pretty typical," Sakura says.

"It wasn't like that with Itachi. When we were kids, I always wanted to be around him. He made time for me when he could, but that wasn't a lot."

Sakura is looking at him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted.

"What?"

"Um. Well. You rarely talk about Itachi. And when you do, it's never so casually. So I didn't expect that."

"Ah." Sasuke puts his hand in his pocket and tries to ignore the sensation of his missing left one following suit. "I've worked through some of my… baggage about him, and our parents, and my clan. Not completely, of course, but it's better. I can think about them now without always getting angry and sad."

"Oh, Sasuke. I'm so glad to hear that." Sakura offers a weak smile. "More than I can tell you."

She still cares. Despite how he hurt her, she wants him to heal.

That gives him the courage to say, "Before anything else, you were my teammate and my friend. I want to get that back, Sakura. Tell me what I can do to fix this, and I'll try."

The timer sounds with its high-pitched chirping, and Sakura switches it off so violently that he's surprised she doesn't hurl it across the room. Then she yanks the infuser out of her tea and throws it on the table, splattering droplets everywhere.

She spins around to face him and says, "I told you two days ago that I don't want you in my life, except when our mutual friendship with Naruto demands it. What on earth gave you the idea that you have any right to ask for more than that?"

"I know I don't have the right, but I'm asking anyway." Sasuke gestures around the kitchen. "We were just laughing about your Neolithic refrigerator together. You're happy that I'm recovering from—everything. I think it'll be harder for you to shut me out than let me in. So why shut me out?"

"Because you _hurt_ me, Sasuke. Not once, not twice. More times than I can count. Every day you were gone, after you left the first time, it broke me a little more. I worked so hard to become strong enough to bring you back, and…" She glances away, biting her lip. "And to become strong enough for you to want, too. After you came home, I thought maybe it worked. Maybe you finally loved me. But you didn't. You just fucked me and ran away before I woke up the next morning."

"You didn't have to change to make me love you, Sakura."

"Oh, please, don't give me that," she says. "Trust me, I know how pathetic it is to build your life around a boy. I told myself the same thing constantly, and whenever I forgot, Tsunade called me out on it. I don't need to hear it from you too."

It feels like there's something caught in his throat, but when Sasuke swallows, it only makes it worse. His voice comes out hoarse and quiet as he says, "I didn't mean it was wrong for you to try to earn my love with strength. I meant you didn't have to. Because I…" He shouldn't tell her this, he absolutely shouldn't, but it's been eating him alive since he was thirteen years old, and suddenly he can't keep it in one moment longer without suffocating. "I already loved you, when we were genin. It's part of why I left. A large part."

Sakura just stares at him, perfectly still, perhaps not even breathing. So quiet that he has to keep talking, because he can't tolerate the silence.

"I knew that if I stayed in Konoha, I would never get my revenge. My dedication was already slipping. I was tempted to let the past go and build a future with Team 7. Build a future with you. So I left. Because if I didn't break my bonds with you and Naruto and Kakashi, I would become weak and complacent." His face is burning with embarrassment, the hand in his pocket clenched, but he makes himself say the rest. "I wish I hadn't done it. More than anything, I wish I had stayed. If I'd just made the right choice, everything would be different."

Sakura wipes at her eyes, brushing away tears that hadn't yet fallen. "You loved me back? Really? I thought…" She laughs, but it's a wet, fragile thing. "I thought my feelings annoyed you."

"They did. Until they didn't." Sasuke strides over to Sakura, close enough that he can see the glossy tears clinging to her eyelashes. She doesn't flinch or pull away when he touches her cheek, or when he whispers, "What did you think I was thanking you for?"

Sakura covers her mouth with the back of her hand, crying outright now, and he already regrets telling her. It was selfish to confess even half of this truth, passing the burden of his childhood love onto her. The temptation to be completely honest, to say, _I still love you_ , disappears like it never existed.

"I'm sorry," Sasuke says. "I should have kept that to myself. It's not relevant anymore. I just didn't want you to think you were unworthy of love, and that's why I kept you at arm's length. The problem was never you."

"Okay." Sakura nods, sniffling. "Okay. Will you leave now, please?"

"Sakura—"

She steps backward, breaking away from him. "I'm about to ugly cry for a very long time, and I don't need an audience. So please—please just go."

He's made her cry again. It might be his greatest skill. It's definitely the one he hates the most.

"All right."

He's not even halfway to her front door when he hears her sob. A remarkably sharp sound for one so quiet. A cry that seems to start in the middle, to pick up from an old grief, not borne from a fresh one.

It's the worst thing Sasuke has ever heard, and it rings in his ears all day.

.

.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like this brand new story! I wrote the entire first chapter yesterday in two sittings, which is a damn miracle for me lately. I’m breaking my self-imposed rule about not posting anything new unless it’s complete because I’m just too excited about this one.
> 
> For those of you who are primarily following me for The Valley of the End, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about it and it’s not on hiatus again! I’ll give you guys the same update now that I gave my tumblr followers a couple of days ago:
> 
> TVOTE has been on hold because I really need my wits about me to work on it, and I just haven’t been well. Without getting into gross details, I suffer from chronic nausea and vomiting, and that’s been acting up pretty badly since September. That sucks in and of itself, but the worst part is that all the vomiting means I can’t keep down my meds, which I very much need. I have bipolar disorder, PTSD, and generalized anxiety disorder, and without my meds my ability to concentrate—and generally function—is shot. On top of that, I’ve been wrestling with writer’s block. (Probably largely due to the disruption in my meds.)
> 
> But! I seem to be shaking the writer’s block at least enough to work on lighter projects. I just need my body to cooperate and stop getting sick all the time.
> 
> The title of this fic, as well as the chapter titles, all come from Florence + the Machine lyrics. 
> 
> If you have a moment to comment, please let me know what you thought!


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